Freak are you okay?
by SweetMango22
Summary: Sherlock follows Sally on a case, much to her dismay, and the investigation of a cold case goes south. How will Sally react when Sherlock gets hurt? Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of these characters. First Fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a look into Sherlock and Sally's characters and how they interact/work together. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 1**

Sally Donavan could feel the buzz of consciousness humming in her ears, followed by a pounding in her head. She opened her eyes to try and blink away the darkness but there was so little light where she way laying uncomfortably that it didn't help much. Sally took in a sharp breath when she raised her hand to the back of her head. Cold sticky blood was matted into her tight curly hair.

What was the last thing that I remember? Resting her eyes and trying to recall the day's events. I woke up late and had to rush around, couldn't find my keys and was only 2 minutes late. Work was normal, had a lot of paperwork to sort out. Lestrade reopened a cold case and called in the Freak.

There was a linked murder that matched the cold case's M.O. It was fuzzy but she remember going to an old warehouse to check out the old crime scene, that's when she discovered that Sherlock Holmes had followed her like an overexcited puppy.

"Who's here? Show yourself!" She ordered and finally a tall, skinny, pale man in a trench coat walked out of the shadows with his hands up in surrender.

"Sally" he nodded and lowered his arms. A snarky look on his face.

"God Freak, you about scared the piss out of me." She lowered her gun and doubled over to compose herself. "I should've shot first and asked questions later" she continued crossly and stood up straight. "What the Hell are you doing here? Lestrade sent you home to study the files.

"And miss out of all this quality time" he responded sarcastically.

"God I hate you"

"Its mutual I assure you."

Quietly they went about looking around. After a few minutes Sally decided to give in. "The body was found here" she pointed with her torch and waited "Well? Any deductions, O great one."

"A few yes" Sherlock replied.

"...Care to share them with me?"

"Not really."

"...Fuck this, there is nothing here that I can't find in the file. Go home Freak." And with that she started to head off.

"Idiot." She heard Sherlock mutter.

"Excuse me?"

"I called you and idiot because you are one." He looked up to see Sally glaring back at him, he smirked and went on. "After being here for a mere five minutes I've already spotted 10 things they missed seven years ago that aren't in your precious file and that will link our possible suspect to this murder as well as confirm that's he is guilty of the crime I had the pleasure of meeting you at two nights ago." He looked so satisfied with himself. "Lucky for us, this murderer got rusty, made mistakes, he was out of practice. I mean he's moved up in the company, why would he ever get his hands dirty, he has everything he's ever wanted now. Except this was different, more personal. Like the murder 7 years ago."

"Who?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Only to robots"

His voice caught when he started to explain and he gave her a look. "Peter Reynolds"

"The owner of Yellow Frog?"

"One in the same!" He seemed almost giddy "Let's go tell Lestrade... you can drive, I'm sure my Taxi has left by now." They were almost out when Sherlock looked at her. "Did you hear that?"

And that was all that Sally remembered. Someone must have come up from behind her and knocked her out. She tried to feel around but something was on her left arm, pinning it down and poking painfully into her torso. It was warm.

She opened her eyes again, they had adjusted to the dim light coming from above her. God, the Freak was on her.

"Get off me!" She struggled and nudged him awake. "Get the Fuck off!" And pushing with all her weight she managed to get out from under the consulting detective. He groaned slightly when his head hit the concrete floor and she could see him lift his hand to hold his side.

"Freak are you okay?" She paused... nothing.

"Sherlock?"

-oOo-

**Please R&R! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for the kind reviews! Like I said this is my first time writing so I was so excited to get some feedback. Here is Chapter 2, I figure that I'll try to update weekly at least, more if I get more reviews. This was really intimidating to write after working on the first Chapter and not expecting anyone to look at it. **

-o-oOo-o-

"Sherlock?!" Sally ignored her spinning head and sat up to kneel next to him. Cool air hit her torso and she felt cool damp on her shirt. It looked almost black in the light but she knew better. It was blood, the Freaks' blood. He was clutching the side of his chest tightly and his breathing came in sharp bursts. Focusing again, she rolled him to his back to try and get a better look and was surprised (and relieved) that she didn't see any blood when she peeled his hands away from his body. Looking up to his face she saw that the blood was from a nasty gash above his right eye and his face was twisted in pain.

"What happened to you?" She wondered out loud, pulling off her scarf to press it against Sherlock's forehead to stop the bleeding. There was something else wrong though, his breathing was too irregular. Pushing away his hands again and holding them out of the way, Sally unbuttoned his coat and pulled his shirt up to reveal angry bruises over his left ribcage. She worried that the force might have punctured a lung. Depending on the severity he could just be uncomfortable or... she'd rather not think ok it. Sherlock pushed again to hold his injury, as if what would help him breathe better.

"Sherlock, wake up!" Sally shook him gently. "Sherlock!"

He stirred and opened his eyes, only to close them again to blink out the blood. Not wanting to wait longer for an explanation, Sally used a dry corner of her scarf to help. He still seemed pretty out of it though.

"Shhhh. Relax, just breathe you idiot." Being called an idiot seemed to snap him out of it a bit. He focused on her briefly.

"Sally?" He tried to look around but the movement made him flinch and look down to his chest. Back to her: "What happened? Where are we?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. The last thing that I remember is you asking his I'd heard something."

"Ok. Shut up and let me just think then." Sally rolled her eyes and Sherlock closed his, briefly recapping the day in his mind, then opened them again. "Oh yes. Donavan we're in a bit of trouble." Sally was about to ask why when Sherlock started coughing. Clutching at his chest again. He pushed himself up and sat against a beam trying to catch his breath.

"Collapsed lung?" Sally spoke out.

"Obviously" Sherlock strained between fits. He straightened himself up against the wall the best he could and finally quit coughing. Sally just watched him. Most days she hoped that he'd get hit by a bus. But seeing him actually hurt wasn't as satisfying. Blood was dripping from his forehead, so she pressed against it again. He was about to object but decided against it.

"Are you hurt?" He strained, wincing again.

"Just a bump on the head, is all." It hadn't bled like his did so she figured not to bother him with that. "We need to figure out where we are."

"We're in another one of Peter Reynolds warehouses. We traveled for about 45 minutes, took a turn off West Lancing street. Back roads after that. Secluded. That gives us about a 50 kilometer radius." He looked around then up at her. "See if you can find anything useful."

"Keep pressure on this" Sally ordered then waited until his hand was pressing against his brow. Her eyes were well adjusted now and she could see that they were in a long narrow room. The light was coming from three squares in the ceiling. She stood under and could see there were three or four stories above, each with the same square cut out, the night sky showing through.

The stars were beautiful she mused, so they must be quite far away from the city for the sky to be that clear.

The building was huge and she found a few small wooden crates at one end, other than that it was gutted. She got back to Sherlock.

"Well?"

"Let me see" She reached toward Sherlock and checked above his eye, it had almost all clotted. "Looking good." She continued to fuss but started telling him what she found. "This place is big, it seems like we're in the basement, the light is coming through three holes in the ceiling."

"All like this one?" He motioned to slightly above them.

"Yep."

"Elevator shafts. Anything else?"

"Um, there are some crates over on that end."

"You missed something." Sally rolled her eyes.

"What did I miss?"

"Well I don't know yet, do I? Help me up Donavan" And he reached his hand up.

"Do you think that's a good idea? He held out his hand again, gesturing for her to help him. She figured that he would tell her if he wasn't okay so she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him upright. He bent over slightly and took in short breaths as he walked around the warehouse. She followed behind him. He would stop and feel the wall or sniff. What a weirdo, Sally thought.

Finally they got back to the center and Sherlock slid down the support beam again. Slowly lowering himself down and holding his side.

"I know where we are. But we're trapped." Sherlock said.

"Just like Ed Somers was seven years ago?" Sally could feel her chest tighten. This was her nightmare, she hated being trapped. Even in this huge warehouse she started feeling claustrophobic. This isn't how her life was meant to end. Staving to death in a basement with a Freak by the hand of a serial killer. She pressed down her fear, fear made people weak.

When Sally looked up she realized he was studying her. "Precisely!"

-o-oOo-o-


	3. Chapter 3

**I know this is like a stupid short chapter but it has been a crazy busy week and tomorrow I'm headed to a roller derby training camp! It's all very exciting. I've started a short about The Doctor and River too. That will be uploaded soon! I don't own Sherlock! The next chapter will be longer, I promise!**

-o-oOo-o-

"Anderson, have you heard anything from Donovan?" Detective Inspector Lestrade shouted across the busy room to his crime scene tech. Usually they came in around the same time. He didn't ask and they didn't tell. Anderson looked up from his desk and quickly checked his phone.

"No sir, I haven't seen her since she left here yesterday." Anderson called back and went about his business. Lestrade waved him off and went back into his office and returned to his call.

"No word from Sally either, sorry John. Maybe they both got that flu bug that is going around." He shrugged.

"He's gone out like this before, but usually he texts" John sounded irritated but Lestrade could tell that it was just because he was worried. "Especially when he's on a higher profile case. If he was still looking for Bluebell the rabbit that would be one thing but this..." John trailed off.

"Well if he does show up I'll tell him to give you a ring, yeah?"

"Yes thank you, that would be great." John paused then kidded, "maybe Sherlock and Sally are together."

"Right-o and all of Britain will fall" He teased back. "Talk to you later. Bye John."

-o-oOo-o-

**Please R&R! Anything ideas? Plot holes? Typos? Tell me anything!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for all the follows and favs! A special thanks to Reading Ella for suggesting that I do an outline. It made me realize a flaw in the timing, so apologies if the timeline seems a bit wonky. Keep reviewing, I didn't realize how encouraging it was to get feedback. I tried to make this chapter a bit longer since I didn't update on my customary Friday. As always, I don't own Sherlock and thanks for reading!**

**-o-oOo-o-**

Chapter 4

Sherlock tried to straighten himself closer to the beam he was leaning against. It was painful to sit up but it made breathing a little less difficult. His mind was racing but he was quietly trying to save his strength. He hated feeling weak. God, especially in front of Sally. He remembered feeling his ribs crack as Ed kicked him violently, but the fall must have been what jostled his insides enough to puncture his lung. The escaped air in his chest cavity was making it nearly impossible to get a full swallow of oxygen and the frigid cold wasn't helping either.

He watched Sally pace back and forth, all her true emotions masked by toughness and anger, same as he hid his with knowledge and uncaring. He needed to figure out how to get them out of there. Sherlock Holmes himself was out of his depth without technology and felt like a true idiot. Without a phone, he had no way of reaching John or Lestrade. He hadn't even told John or Mrs. Hudsen he was going out! Idiot, he thought. Simpleton. Ordinary!

His wave of personal insults was interrupted. "Well! Oh wise one..." Sally paused, tapping her foot. "Do you mind sharing with me whatever it is that you've figured out!"

"Yes of corse." He began, taking in as deep a breath he could before beginning. "Reynolds hadn't killed for a while. Why would he need to? It was his psychotic outlet for stress. After he moved up in the company he couldn't risk getting his hands dirty. Seven years ago, he started feeling guilty, that is why Ed Somers was left to die. He had the bruising around his neck that matched multiple other murders seven years ago but Reynolds must have stopped before Somers was dead, since he died of dehydration, trapped in the abandoned warehouse. Reynolds was going mad with guilt so he told someone he thought he could trust, someone he thought of as the son he never had... He may have even left him the company."

"Eli Jameson?" Sally questions.

"Precisely!" Sherlock seemed triumphant that Sally was getting it. "Two nights ago at the murder scene we didn't know the victim's name yet, tonight we did and I saw Eli's locker. Reynolds obviously doesn't want to kill anymore, since he waited for me to say his name before attacking us. He hates himself for killing Eli. But knew it had to be done. Eli was stronger than he anticipated though, that's why Eli was found face down with a bullet hole in the back of his head. Reynolds didn't want to see the life ooze out of him. He didn't enjoy it anymore." Sherlock paused, taking in sharp breathes and hoping Sally didn't notice. "He is seriously underestimating John and Lestrade if he thinks we are going to die down here."

Sally shrugged "Ed Somers died of dehydration, we're going to die of chill." She rubbed her arms to build up some friction.

They were both quiet for a little before Sally continued. "Do you really think Greg and John have noticed we're missing?"

Sherlock was sure that John noticed, but unsure if he thought Sherlock was in trouble or if he was just being a tit to piss him off. "Oh yeah!" He lied to reassure her. It seemed to work.

"It's bloody freezing!" Sally exclaimed trying to stay active to keep warm. Sherlock was cold too but knew that he couldn't exert himself by moving around.

"Come" he commanded and shuffled a little to the side so there was room next to him.

"Oh please." Sally rolled her eyes and kept pacing.

"Sally." Sherlock motioned again. "It's only logical, you've done so well tonight, don't start being an idiot now."

She looked at him crossly then relented and sat down, pressing her side into his. He lifted his elbow so she could slip her arm under his. Sherlock smelled good she mused to herself. She had never been that close to the freak before and soon his warmth started to take the chill off.

"Thanks." She mumbled.

He grunted softly and nodded and they were quiet again for a while.

Sally was starting to get sleepy but jerked herself awake. Sherlock and her both could have concussions, it would be silly to sleep at all. Looking over she saw that Sherlock's eyes were closed as well with his head resting on the pillar behind him. She nudged him. "Sherlock... hey, wake up!" She pushed again before he woke and looked at her questioningly. "You could have a concussion, no resting your eyes."

"Concussions are boring." He sighed. Even that killed. His breathing was beginning to be a problem. He tried to take in a deep breath but his chest was just too bloody tight.

Sally saw him flinch. "Are you okay Freak?"

"Don't call me that." He exclaimed breathily. "Would you want me to call you 'slag with daddy issues'."

"I'm not a slag!" She replied angrily.

"I'm not a freak!" He yelled back. Taking in short breaths. He didn't mind the nickname so much. It was almost endearing but he didn't want her to worry about him. So he was putting up his customary wall of sarcasm and anger. Pushing her away, he decided to just focus on breathing. In and out, in and out again.

It was silent except for their breathing and the occasional cricket chirping. She didn't want to be close to him right now but she also didn't want to leave the warmth he was providing beside her.

Sally shifted next to him lifting her head from the pillar just for a moment. In the dark Sherlock noticed a small mark left on the cement. Looking closer he noticed a different sheen to some of her tight curls.

"You are hurt!" He started to get angry again, removing her arm from his, he got to his knees and started to fuss over her. "Why did you lie to me!" Sally tried to brush him off.

"I'm fine." She gritted her teeth and tried to push his hands away so he grabbed her wrists tightly and pulled her close to him.

"Let, me, look at it." He pronunciated, holding her firmly until she nodded and settled. She sat there brooding while Sherlock gently poked around her injury. "It clotted well, but you lost a lot of blood and you need stitches."

"Well done doctor Holmes, I think maybe we'll skip the stitches and focus on how you haven't been breathing right for the last four hours." Sally was glad to finally get that out. "I don't want to watch you suffocate then freeze to death, alone in this hell hole!"

"You'd rather freeze to death with company" he smiled slightly. "That could be the nicest thing you've ever said AT me." Sherlock's breathing hitched and started a small coughing fit.

Sally held his shoulder back as comfortingly as she knew how, and after he had finished she added. "Don't think too much of it." He collapsed back against their cold back rest and noticed Sally shivering.

The cold was getting to Sherlock too so he pulled his coat in tighter, ignoring the pain in his side, and motioned for Sally to squeeze in next to him again. "Come now, Donovan."

She pushed up next to him again.

"Is it okay if I have my arm around you?" He asked innocently, then quickly added, "it helps the lungs expand better.

"Yep." And together they settled in again, this time stretching their legs out in front of them. "Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"What happened while I was out?"

**-o-oOo-o-  
**  
**Next chapter you all get to figure out how they got there! Sally might explain some of her 'daddy issues' and poor Sherlock might have to admit he's not alright. Please, please R&R!**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, this chapter got away from me a bit. It was just going to be a quick little flashback before Sally and Sherlock talked more but it just kept going! I'll update again soon with what I promised last chapter. A bit of whump in this chapter and playing with flashbacks, please let me know if it makes sense and what you think. Thank you all so much for the reviews! Keep them coming and I'll write faster! **

-oOo-

Chapter 5

"Did you hear that?" Sherlock questioned Sally, turning just in time to see a darkly dressed figure clock her in the back of the head with the butt of his gun. Which he then aimed at Sherlock.

Sherlock held up his hands in surrender. "I'm unarmed." He spoke cautiously in has baritone voice "May I?" He motioned towards Sally crumpled on the ground.

The man motioned with his gun. "Fine. But make it quick."

Sherlock quickly took a knee next to the fallen officer. She was out cold, but nothing more than a bump. He looked up and smirked. "Peter Reynolds, old habits die hard? I've recently quit smoking again. So I understand addictions, but murder? It's not so fitting for a CEO."

Reynolds pulled off the hood shadowing his face and held the gun steady on Sherlock again. "How did you know it was me?"

"Just now, or before?"

"Um. Both!" Reynolds rolled his eyes.

As Sherlock explained he read Reynolds' face. It was intrigued, not concerned or remorseful as Sherlock had hoped. He thought that having shot Eli meant that he didn't want to return to killing but it seemed he was just enjoying different means.

"You've never felt guilty?" Sherlock asked after he concluded.

"Never." He answered unflinching. Bad news for Sherlock and Sally. "Let's go." he waved his gun at Sherlock. "Grab the girl, we're going for a drive."

"I would rather not carry miss Donovan around, thank you."

"I'll kill her now if you like." He aimed his gun at the defenseless woman at Sherlock's feet. Sherlock found his only opportunity to fight back.

A quick twist of the gun, towards the weakest point of the hand, the thumb. He would fumble forward, grasping for it, left uppercut, right jab. Then a finishing kick in the sternum while he was trying to recover.

Proceed. Reynolds aimed, only expecting Sherlock to counter verbally, instead he sprung into action. Successfully twisting the gun away from him. That's when it all went wrong. He didn't fumble towards it, instead he masterfully twisted out-of-the-way of Sherlock's uppercut and threw his elbow into Sherlock's exposed lower back. Landing a perfect kidney shot that Sherlock felt rip through his body like a flame.

Sherlock sprawled forward and tried to shake off the pain in his torso and get up but he was too slow and Reynolds had retrieved his gun and was at his side.

"Big mistake Mr. Holmes." He kicked the consulting detective once in the side. Sherlock felt the air rush out of his lungs and he dropped to an elbow trying to curl out of the madman's path. Blow after blow, man kicked like a bull, making Sherlock dizzy with pain. Black spots started to dance around his vision when he heard his body cracking under the force. Finally the blows paused and Sherlock heard the echo of a gun cocking 10 feet away from him.

"Carry her, or she dies now."

Sherlock's breath hitched as he pulled himself to kneeling upright. "As opposed to dying later?"

Reynolds shrugged. "Your choice."

Sherlock looked to Sally. He felt strangely responsible for her, or maybe he was being selfish and didn't want to be alone. Talking aloud helped him think. Although leaving her here might act as a clue for Lestrade. No, dammit, John would scold him for thoughts like that. So he doubled over to push off with one arm holding his side with the other and stumbled toward Donovan pulling her up by the arm so he could wrap it around his neck and hold her side.

"Let's go." Reynolds motioned out the back of the warehouse and followed Sherlock slowly to an old junk car. Put her in the back, and you get the boot. Sherlock looked up like he was going to argue. "Just don't" Reynolds shook his head threateningly.

Sherlock didn't argue and was relieved to set Donovan down in the back, buckling her in. "Safety first." He mumbled to himself. His side was killing him as he climbed into the boot and curled up uncomfortably. When he was shut in and they were moving he scooted toward the back and found a peek hole through the rusted vehicle. They drove for a while before Sherlock saw a sign he recognized, West Lancing St., then more back roads before stopping.

The latch clicked opened to Reynolds with Sally slung over his shoulder and the gun pointed again at Sherlock. "Inside." He ordered.

Sherlock debated trying to fight back but his side made him weak and he didn't want Sally to get hurt. They walked in to the darkened warehouse, his eyes adjusted slowly as he was pushed inside. Abandoned, old, smelled of wood stain, dust and damp.

Reynolds stood about 10 feet away, his hand steadily pointing the gun at Sherlock. "My mistake?" He sighed. "Returning to the scene of the crime. Because you see, Mr. Holmes, I love killing but I want to see what death looks like. I'm not killing you like this because I'm weak, I'm doing it because I love the thrill of seeing the bodies pulled out." He lowered Sally to almost standing and pushed her at Sherlock. He reacted quickly to catch her but was caught by Reynolds gun, hard above his eye. He stumbled backwards, lost his footing and fell along with Sally, into the darkened hole behind him.

The next thing he remembered was Sally's voice.

"Freak are you okay?" She paused... nothing.

"Sherlock?"

Then pain, lots of pain.

"What happened while I was out?"

-o-

Sherlock's chest ached and the inability to take in a deep breath was starting to wear on him. Fatigue, eventual loss of consciousness followed by death, he concluded about his condition. He glanced over at Sally. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be bored. The truth wasn't boring but he wanted to save his breath, and her dignity. He knew they were similar in that neither of them ever wanted to feel weak or hinder anyone. So he summed it up. "There was a painful amount of chit chat, a bit of a scuffle and a boring ride to this place."

She looked at him questioningly, he didn't want to talk.

"Okay Freak" He glared over to protest his nickname, but Sally was smiling slightly. She was messing with him. So he just looked at her with eyebrow raised and relaxed again. He really didn't mind.

-oOo-

**As always, please R&R!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry about the little hiatus! Family stuff, excuses excuses excuses... here is chapter 6 for you! There will only be maybe one or two chapters after this one, unless I get some brilliant reviews with some more story ideas. Thanks all the wonderful kind words and for sticking with me! **

-oOo-

Chapter 6

Sally shivered, jolting herself from sleep. Fuck's sake, she was cold. "Hey you still up?" Sherlock grunted in response. Sally looked around, light was starting to show through the elevator shaft. Hopefully the warmth of the day would make its way to them soon and take the chill out off. She looked over at Sherlock, able to make out his sharp features and pale skin. But there was something else. Strain?

"Sherlock are you okay?" He didn't answer right away so she nudged him gently with her elbow. Sally jumped when he quickly cocked his head to face her.

"Fine" he stated plainly. "I'm just fine." The second 'fine' came out in a rasp and he unhooked his arm from around her and doubled over, wheezing.

Sally was at his side in an instant, trying to hold him steady while his body shook in strain. "Bloody Hell Sherlock!" Her voice sounded harsher than she intended. It felt strange being so close to Sherlock, he always seemed so cold and indestructible, but not now. She backed off a bit and sat on her feet. "Look at me." She ordered once he caught his breath. "Sherlock, look at me." She pulled his chin up, supporting him. His eyes met hers with a look of panic.

"Sharp chest pains and tightness, getting worse." he spat out. "Shortness of breath, and fatigue." Sally was studying him, his breathing hitched and shallow and his color seemed off somehow but maybe that was still just the dim light shining from above. She noticed his eyes were red and bloodshot from staying awake before his head dropped towards his chest again.

"Here." Sally pulled him forward and away from the beam so she could lower him to his back. He tried to fight it for a moment but was too weak to resist. "That should help a bit, right?"

"Quite right." Sherlock breathed. "I'm sorry Sally. I should have never followed you to the warehouse. He might have left you alone, ignorant to who the murderer was."

"Or he would've killed me anyway for the fun of it." Sally rolled her eyes. "Save your breath Freak." A few moments passed. Sherlock looked focused on bringing in oxygen and his breathing was improving slightly.

"Speak Donovan! I'm going mad in the quiet." He spoke quickly.

"Uh... um..." Sally felt rushed. What was she supposed to talk to him about? Small talk with Sherlock bloody Holmes?

"Come on!" He goaded her on.

"Shit." She was flustered and Sherlock smiled a bit. "God, you're a twat!" She laughed.

"I know." He stated plainly. "Please though, do indeed think of something to say."

"Well, okay. Where to start?" Sally sat crosses legged and leaned on her knees, slouching for warmth. " I grew up in Cardiff, then moved to London when I was 18. I tried studying business at University but was rubbish at school. My marks were just average so I knew I wouldn't get a great job with it. So I quit." Sally looked over to Sherlock. He was still focused on breathing looking through the skylight above. "I got a job waiting tables so I could afford to stay in London. I don't know why, I didn't really have any mates I just didn't want to go home."

"Because your father?"

"Yeah." She reflected. "He wanted a boy, or at least a kid who could graduate University. I let my parents think I was still going for the next three years. And when my parents finally found out they were pissed. I've only seen them once since that night, and we didn't even talk then." She checked, Sherlock's eyes were still open, his breathing more even than it had been for a while.

"Why did you become a detective?" He looked over. Genuine question in his eyes.

"Well." Sally sighed. "I didn't get along with any of the people that I worked with at the restaurant, or my family, and I only really had one friend as a kid, so in my mind it made sense to be at a job where I didn't have to be anyone's friend. I'm the bad guy to the bad guys..."

A minute passed and Sally adjusted a little. The morning sun was warming them up so she uncurled and leaned against the pillar again, closer to Sherlock. He looked pale, more so than usual and his fists were locked tight in concentration. "My friend and I used to pretend we were cops together, fighting neighborhood bad guys and solving made up crimes."

"What happened to her?"

"Um." She paused. She hadn't talked about this in a long time. "HE died when we were 14."

"HE? I always miss something." Sherlock scolded himself. "I'm sorry Sally.

"It's okay it was a long time ago."

"It's not okay. You're still hurting even now. You miss him and were traumatized by his sudden death but your parents shut you out after he died because he was the son they never had."

Sally took in a deep breath. "Way to be sensitive Freak."

"Oh, sorry. Sensitivity isn't a strength of mine."

"No shit..."

"Tell me how he died?"

"An underground tunnel collapsed on top of him. I wasn't there. I was off with my mum buying a dress for a party I didn't want to go to." She could read Sherlock's expression. God, he was good. "Yes, that is why I'm so claustrophobic."

"Hm." He grunted and nodded. "Greg and John should be here by now." Sherlock winced.

"How could they know where to look?"

"This is one of Reynolds' buildings. I'd hoped that they would send teams out to check all of them."

"You know that's a stretch right? They MIGHT be starting to wonder where we are now." Sally could just see it. Anderson clueless and Lestrade pissed that she was late, again.

"John will realize. He worries so." Talking was becoming more difficult and Sherlock couldn't suck in enough air. He tried a deeper breath and it started another painful coughing fit. Sherlock sat up and air wheezed in.

"Christ Sherlock!" Sally was by his side. "Relax. Breath. Shhhhh." She held him tightly and he stopped coughing but his chest was still heaving, quick and shallow breaths. His forehead was resting on her shoulder and Sally was cradling the back of his head with one hand and had the other on his back. Rubbing comforting circles on it.

"I"m sorry." He breathed.

"Stop apologizing Sherlock." She ordered and he just nodded, unable to respond. Sally was playing with his hair now. The dark curls would bounce back into the perfect place, then she would find another one to single out and wrap around her finger.

He hated being so weak. It felt like someone was sitting on his chest and he was so out of breath. He didn't want to die, he couldn't leave John and Lestrade, Molly even came to his mind. His body was turning on him, the only comfort was Sally. She was scared too, scared to die down there, alone. There she was though, tenderly helping him relax. It made him remember the times he was a child and Mycroft would be there for him when he was sick.

"You know, sometimes you remind me of him a bit." She spoke quietly.

Sherlock grunted again, so she knew he was listening.

"He was crazy. He wanted everyday to be an adventure and he was brilliant." Sherlock shifted, and lifted his hand to Sally shoulder, she got the hint that he was ready to lay down again. "A little less of a tit..." She teased. Sherlock's face didn't turn into a smirk and Sally scooted near him. "Sherlock?"

"I'm sorry." He spoke quietly in between quick breaths.

"It's okay, I don't mind being reminded of him!" Sally smiled and brushed a curl out of his eyes.

"No, I'm sorry about this..." His eyes started to fall closed.

"Sherlock... Sherlock no!" She shook him a little and noticed a blue tint to his skin and around his lips. He wasn't getting enough oxygen. "Sherlock I'm not done talking to you!" His eyes opened a little. And she talked quickly. Starting to get flustered. She was mad at him for getting hurt but more worried and scared. "I wish I had never met you!" She spat out angrily. His eyes refocused and narrowed slightly. Good good, she thought. "That's right! Now stay awake!" She held his face with both hands so he was forced to look at her. "If I'd never met you, I would still be fine with being lonely!" Sherlock started to fade again. Tears started spilling out of the corners of her eyes. "But I see you and John, and Greg and Molly. Hell, even your landlady and they _care_ about you! And it makes me so mad that a twat like you can even be happier than me. So Sherlock, you hang in there okay? Because if we get out of this, we might even become friends, because somehow I even care about you and I'm sick of people I care about dying or pushing me away!"

With that, Sherlock's eyes closed. "Sherlock!" Sally screamed at him.

-oOo-

**Cliffhanger! As always, please R&R.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews, I never imagined that I would get so many! Buzzygrl07 - Here is your answer to where Mycroft has been. I may have a future fic in me with more about why he is staying away. If that is something you/other awesome reviewers would be interested in. :) Dawnfire11 - It is so encouraging getting a new reviewer! Thank you so much! Prothoe - I always look forward to your feedback. I wasn't planning much recovery/hospital detail but I'm going to add some extra next chapter just for you!**

-o-O-o-

Chapter 7

"Sherlock!" Sally screamed again, trying to shake him slightly, only succeeding to elicit a pained breath sound... He was breathing still that was good right? She lowered her head and listened to him breathing. It was irregular and choppy but auto pilot would keep he alive for a little longer. All of her training screamed at her to keep calm in situations like this. So, 'breath' she thought to herself. Medically there wasn't much she could do. She tilted his chin up slightly and made sure he couldn't choke on his own tongue. It seemed to help a little. "HELP" Sally yelled. "Please, is anyone up there?" Come on, keep breathing freak. "HELP!"

She heard someone shuffling above them. Then a heavy door slamming shut. What?

Quiet voices and quick footsteps followed.

"Hello?" A voice shouted.

"Oh my God" Sally mumbled to herself. Was she dreaming, or was she dying too? "Yes hello! We're down here!

She could hear more muddled voices and soon, two grubby faces were looking down at her. "Donovan? Are you Detective Sargent Sally Donovan?"

"Yeah!"

"It's them! We did it, we have!" A voice exclaimed happily.

"Please hurry, Sherlock is hurt!" Sally called up.

"Hang on love, help is on the way!"

Within 10 minutes she could hear the sounds of rescue. Four men were lowered down to retrieve Sally and Sherlock. Sherlock on a gurney and Sally harnessed to her rescuer. Paramedics were fussing over him and Sally was left sitting with a blanked draped over her shoulders.

"When did he pass out?" Sally nearly jumped out or her skin when a paramedic approached her to ask some questions, shouting over the sound of the helicopter above them.

"Ummm..." Sally continued flustered. "About 15 minutes ago, I... I think?!"

"It's okay. We have him now. Hold tight, I'll be right back with you." She ran back over to Sherlock and talked to the other paramedics for a bit before returning to Sally. "Are you hurt at all?"

"Just a bump on the head, I'm okay. Please just help him!" Sally couldn't bear the thought of losing him, not after everything they had been through.

"He's in good hands... It's just, if you're injured you'd have to ride with us to the hospital." She looked as Sally knowingly.

Sally finally got it. "Oh yes! Bad bump on the head from the fall." She replied, making a face and grimacing a little.

"Alright, come on!" She smiled and lead Sally into the belly of the helicopter. "Sit here, try not move or freak out or anything okay?"

"Yeah." And with that Sally watched her trot back to Sherlock's side. The two men who had found her peered into the helicopter from a distance. She waved, and they shyly waved back before wandering off. They loaded the gurney past her and she caught a glimpse of Sherlock's face. In the bright light he looked even more like a ghost.

"His stats are falling! BP down, suspected traumatic pneumothorax on his left side... Let's get that chest tube in" Another one shouted. Sally watched the paramedics working quickly. "Get that oxygen over here!" Soon, they had done all they could do to help him and the ride was quiet and tense the rest of the flight. Sally tried to keep it together but seeing Sherlock like that, that broken and fragile made her shiver. He was a porcelain doll instead of the cold, heartless stone she used to imagine him as. The angry bruise on his side had spread to cover most of his left side now. Sally couldn't help but think that there was something else she could have done.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the paramedic who had spoken to her earlier. "How about I take a look at that bump on your head?" Sally nodded. "Here, let's trade spots so I can see it a bit better." She stood, crouched over, passed Sally and waiting for her so scoot over, closer to Sherlock. "My name is Pam by the way Sally. If you are experiencing any other discomfort let me know, okay?" Sally nodded again mindlessly, staring at him while Pam gently explored Sally's head wound. "A couple of stitches and you'll be just fine Sally!" She reported cheerily. "Sally?" She said again and Sally looked at her this time. "We're doing everything we can okay? There is a good chance he'll pull right out of this."

"Thanks Pam" Sally finally spoke. It did make her feel a little better. "Come on Freak." She whispered and slid her hand into his.

* * *

It was a quiet reunion with John and Lestrade ending with Sally sitting in the waiting room, numbly. The last 45 minutes were the craziest blur of her life. Sherlock was in surgery already to repair his damaged lung. He was on a steady stream of oxygen but doctors wouldn't know if he had sustained any long term side effects until he woke up.

A doctor walked out and told her, John and Lestrade that he suffered from severe traumatic pneumothorax and that two out of his four broken ribs had punctured his lung. "We had to perform a thoracotomy to be able to repair all the small tears." John nodded knowingly and the doctor continued. "Deviation of his trachea, a shift in the mediastinum, depression of the hemi-diaphragm, everything in there shifted even obstructing the venous return to his heart."

Sally watched John's head fall into his hands as he sat.

"I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks Doc" Lestrade nodded his thanks and sat between John and Sally. "Shit." He sighed, leaning back.

John's phone vibrated again and he swore under his breath. "Mycroft" he confirmed to Lestrade and Sally. "The bastard wants an update every two minutes but can't even show up for his own bloody brother." He read the text.

_"I assure you that Sherlock is in good hands. I sent the very best surgeon." -MH_

_"Why the hell aren't you here Mycroft?_

_"It is not safe for me to be there now Doctor Watson. I trust you'll keep me informed." -MH_

John scoffed and tucked his phone back into his coat pocket. "The Holmes boys will be the death of me. Mycroft seems to be in some sort of trouble in the states. The homeless network came through before his own sodding brother!"

John was worried, he always got angry when he was worried and couldn't do anything. All they could do now was wait, and it was killing all of them.

-o-O-o-

**Please review!**

**So, I wrote and rewrote this chapter like five times. I know is seems choppy but in my mind, that is how the day/craziness would feel like to Sally. Hopefully you don't hate it too much! Also, I'm no doctor so forgive any medical jargon that doesn't make sense.**

**I'm in the process of brainstorming with '****_It's-Somebody'_**** on a new story so, that's exciting and I'll post more about that soon!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm alive! I just needed that last follow and that last review (thanks ladytokyo) to get me motivated again! Here you go faithful followers!**

-o-O-o-

Chapter 8

Sherlock could hear rhythmic beeping to his left and soft murmuring in the distance. Pain in his side was dulled and plastic tubes tickled his nose. Oxygen. He let it fill his lungs, in and out, breathing deeply. Another smell, it was sterile and unwelcoming. Hospital, brilliant.

Almost consciousness, he thought. Alive? Yes.

Injured? His side hurt, his head ached and his chest felt like a grown man had jumped rope on it but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

He remembered. Lack of oxygen could cause memory loss, decreased motor functions, and permanent brain damage. His mind was in a haze. Was it the drugs, damage, or just the fogginess of waking?

The test? His mind palace.

He swung open the heavy doors and walked down the familiar halls, shoes clicking softly under him on the hard wood flooring.

Family memories: Mycroft, always such a bossy git. Useful at times, a touch overweight. Mum and Dad's favorite. Seemed intact enough.

Personal files: Sherlock Holmes. 221b Baker St. Mrs. Hudson is his landlady. John Watson is his flatmate. Sorted. Consulting detective. He solved cases with... Lestrade, Gregory. Science experiments, tea, Molly Hooper, corpses, and riding crops. Everything was familiar still.

Sally. Where was she? His mind panicked.

Now to wake. He closed the files and doors behind him to get out of him mind and back to reality.

Another deep breath in and Sherlock forced his eyes to open. The florescent lights burned and he looked over to see John sleeping awkwardly in the chair next to him. No need to wake him yet. Sherlock tested his movement, first by turning his neck ever so slightly. He looked down to see a gauze bandage on the upper left side of his chest. Must have needed a chest tube to re-inflate his lung. Next he watched his fingers stretch and wiggle on command. All seemed well. He flexed his legs slightly, then relaxed again on the soft pillow.

"John." He croaked. His voice sounded strange to him. He tried to clear his throat but needed water. "John" He said again. Louder this time. John sleepily pulled his head upright and looked for a second before reality set in and he jumped up and moved closer to Sherlock.

"Sherlock? How are you feeling?" His voice was calm but rushed, much like it would've had been in Afghanistan.

"Thirsty." Sherlock answered and John poured him a cup of water and hit the call button.

John held it out and watched as Sherlock reached for it. He was testing him. The water was cool and wonderful but now he has some questions for John before the doctor came in. "John, how is Sally? Is she okay?" He asked sounding a bit more like himself again.

"She's fine mate. She's gone home for a bit to sleep and said she'd be back in the morning." Sherlock sighed in relief and John gave him a confused look. "Sherlock, how are you feeling?"

"Fine, really John. I just..."

The doctor walked in and asked John to leave for a moment while he examined Sherlock and asked him some questions. "Ah, sure yeah. I'll need to be contacting Mycroft anyway." John mumbled and left. Sherlock sighed and the doctor tested his sight and his hearing, then poked at the bruising on his side and checked his stitches.

"Sherlock, you sustained multiple rib fractures, bla bla bla bla, bla, bla bla... boring. Sherlock's mind wandered. He didn't remember getting rescued but he remember so much else. Sally had opened up to him, then she yelled at him. Typical he thought.

"I wish I had never met you!" He remembered looking at her, trying with all of his being to not lose it, eyes narrowing in confusion and distress. "That's right! Now stay awake, the guys will be here soon!" Her voice seemed so far away at the time. "If I'd never met you, I would still be fine with being lonely!" Oh, he understood then. "...Hell, even your landlady cares about you! And it makes me so mad that a twat like you can even be happier... if we get out of this, we might become friends..." The pain in his lungs was too much. His mind wasn't getting enough oxygen. "Sherlock!" He heard Sally scream and then nothing.

Somehow they had gotten out, that was his next puzzle. Sherlock looked up and the doctor was looking at him questioningly.

"I'm sorry?" He responded.

"If you're up for it, there is a detective that wants to see you." He repeated.

"Oh, yes of corse."

"Very well, I'll be back in to check on you soon. Try not to get too worked up." and with that he left to fetch Lestrade.

Sherlock could hear them bicker in the hall. "I'm not going to upset him. He's bloody Sherlock Holmes, we work together, I told you he'd want to see me!" He looked ruffled when he walked in but shifted his attitude quickly.

"Alright then?" He nodded at Sherlock.

"It seems so."

"Good."

"Have you got him?"

Lestrade looked up then to the hall. "Now I'm not supposed to talk about the case..." He said loudly then got in close to Sherlock and lowered his voice. "Everyone's out to get him, but not just yet. Your bother is pulling some strings so I'm sure we'll have him in no time at all." He continued. "We have solid evidence linking him to the cold cases and Eli and Somers'."

"Two surviving victim's as well." Sherlock mused.

"Well yes, there is that too. Are you sure you're alright mate?" The doctors made it sound pretty grim. And Sally seemed pretty shaken."

"She nearly had to watch me die, I image anyone simpleton would be shaken after that. On top of the fear of death herself." He paused. "How ever did you find us anyway?"

John walked in at that exact moment and hooked Sherlock's chart onto the foot of his bed.

"Homeless network! Would you believe it? Your flatmate's idea actually." he motioned towards John.

"Cheers right?" John looked almost giddy.

Sherlock smiled. "Yes, well done. Thank you John."

"A 'thank you'? We'll have to check you for brain damage yet." John teased.

"Oh piss off." Sherlock quipped back and smiled.

They carried on a bit longer before a nurse knocked gently on the door. "Alright out you go boys, visiting hours are up."

After a final check from the nurse, Sherlock was left on his own. Being so social had taken a lot out of him, usually he found sleep so boring but he was smart and knew that his body needed it to get better. Tomorrow he'd see Sally, and where was Mycroft? He had forgotten to ask John and had no idea where his mobile phone was. Damn.

His mind swam, and laying there he realized how close he'd come to death was alarming. He assured Lestrade that Sally was shaken, but indeed, he was too and when he finally did get to sleep the nightmares he had were chilling.

-o-O-o-

**Please, please, please review! If there are questions not answered that you feel should have been, let me know. If there is some rubbish grammar, let me know and if you like it, let me know! Only another chapter or two so I want to finish it up right!**


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